The world slowed down.
Every sound stretched, every shadow expanded, and the cold December air seemed to freeze around the boys as White Sugar stepped fully into the doorway.
Tall.
Graceful.
Dressed in flawless white agbada that flowed like smoke.
His mask shone like polished bone, with two thin red lines dripping down from the eye holes… like tears of blood.
Behind him, six White Masks stood in perfect silence.
Ayo's heartbeat thundered.
Banji felt his legs weaken.
Emmanuel whispered, "Jesus…"
Adeoluwa couldn't breathe.
White Sugar tilted his head — a slow, elegant, terrifying movement.
"Ayo…"
His voice was calm. Too calm.
"Sweet blood does not run forever. It must be claimed."
Ayo's mother threw herself between him and the masked figure.
"You can't take him!"
White Sugar sighed.
"You disobeyed, Bamidele."
His hand rose lazily.
"Kó wọn.
Collect them."
The White Masks moved.
Fast.
Inhumanly fast.
Emmanuel grabbed a chair and swung wildly—
A White Mask caught it mid-air and snapped it like toothpick.
Banji pulled Ayo toward the hallway—
A Mask blocked them, reaching out with fingers long and pale.
Ayo felt cold wrap around his wrist.
But before the Mask could pull him—
His mother screamed an incantation so sharp it sliced the air:
"Adun dàmí, bà mí níràn!"
(Adun, sweeten me, defend me!)
A wave of sweet-scented wind burst from her palms.
Sugar particles swirled like a glittering storm, slamming into the cult members.
The boys stumbled back, coughing.
The Masks staggered — but only for a second.
White Sugar stepped through the cloud as if he was walking through perfume.
"Bamidele," he said softly.
"You were warned. Sweet blood is not yours to protect."
He flicked his fingers.
"Ìránjẹ̀jẹ̀ Adun… dìde."
A white mist crawled from the floor, thickening, shaping itself into something monstrous:
A creature made of sugar dust, with hollow eyes and a syrup-like jaw.
The boys had never seen anything like it.
Ayo shouted, "Mummy we need to run!"
She pushed him toward the living room window.
"Jump! All of you! Go!"
Banji hesitated. "What about you?!"
"I will hold him off. GO!"
But White Sugar raised a hand —
and the creature lunged toward her.
Ayo screamed.
"MUMMY!"
She chanted again, her voice shaking:
"Adun, gbà mí! Adun, fi sùgà jẹ!"
(Adun, defend me! Adun, turn sweetness into strength!)
A burst of blinding white light blasted the creature backward—
—but White Sugar didn't move.
He simply watched her.
Calm.
Like someone watching rain.
"You forget," he murmured,
"I am the first son of Adun."
His mask glowed red.
Then he whispered:
"Adùn kó èmí rẹ̀."
(Adun, collect her soul.)
Bamidele gasped and dropped to her knees, clutching her chest.
Sugar dust began lifting from her skin—
like her life was being pulled out grain by grain.
Ayo froze.
"No… no no no, Mummy! MUMMY!"
Banji grabbed him.
"We have to GO! NOW!"
The boys smashed through the window, glass shattering everywhere.
They hit the ground outside—
rolled—
scrambled to their feet.
Inside, White Sugar's calm voice echoed through the broken house:
"Ayo… sweet blood cannot run from sugar."
The boys sprinted into the darkness.
Ayo's tears blurred his vision.
Emmanuel dragged him by the arm.
Adeoluwa panted, "Where do we go?!"
Banji shouted, "Anywhere! Just run!"
Behind them, the doors burst open.
White Masks stepped out silently.
Then—
White Sugar emerged.
The moonlight glowed on his agbada.
His voice carried across the night:
"Bring me the sweet blood.
Before dawn."
The boys ran.
They didn't know where.
They didn't know how far.
All they knew was one thing:
White Sugar was coming.
And he would not stop.